Taunting
by Mistress-Neko
Summary: After Nightmares. Legolas has received his first bow! Though, when a group of older boys shows up and starts making fun of him, saying that his Ada hates him, Legolas runs off into the woods, hurt both emotionally and physically. Thranduil becomes worr


[Disclaimer] I do not own Legolas, Thranduil, or the realm of Mirkwood. They are all owned by the wonderful writer, J.R.R. Tolkien. I do, however, own any extra characters that are in this little vignette.  
  
[Summary] Legolas is starting to learn and practice archery, and older elf children begin to taunt him about being a prince, and not very good. During the taunting, Legolas gets injured and runs off into the woods, crying because of what the others say to him. Thranduil becomes worried when his son doesn't come back and goes out after him, worried, especially after he finds out that Legolas had been injured.  
  
[A/N] This is a little fic, just a little story that came to mind. I say that Legolas is five-years-old, but that is only in maturity. It actuality, he probably somewhere around twenty-five years old. I also say that Legolas and Thranduil have green eyes, just because I thought that green eyes are cute. Also, something that I like to imagine is that Legolas is the youngest elf in Middle-Earth, since I personally think that he is younger than Arwen. This also happens sometime after my other little fic, since this is after Legolas mother has left for Valinor only months before.  
  
Taunting  
  
The small blonde elfling ran through the woods eagerly, bow in his hand. His Ada had just given him the small bow as a gift that morning, knowing how much his son enjoyed watching the veteran archers practicing with their bows, and had made this for Legolas. He had also spent time helping the eager elfling make his own arrows, helping him through the process until Legolas could make his own.  
  
From a balcony, the elven king smiled as he watched the green-eyed elfling running to one of the closest archery fields. It would be the first time that the small elf would ever try to shoot a bow. Thranduil had hoped that he would've been able to be there to see how his only son and child did. He knew that the child would probably be alright, especially since the elfling watched the warriors and guards that protected the Kingdom of Mirkwood so often.  
  
When Legolas got to the archery practice fields, he ran over to his two friends, Milrèe and Sidárn. They both smiled and waved at him, both holding bows that they had already received from their parents a few weeks before. They were both excited to see that Legolas's father had finally gotten him the bow that both elflings knew that he had wanted for a long time.  
  
They three friends were getting ready to shoot their bows when a group of older elves came up from behind them, their leader with a taunting smile on his face. The group enjoyed reminding the small prince, since the small elf always put others before him, even though, as Crown Prince of Mirkwood, he could've said that he was before everyone else. Lately, though, they enjoyed reminding him that he didn't have an Ame anymore, since she had sailed away to Arda. They had also found other ways to tease the elfling.  
  
And since he now had his own bow, it would be a lot easier.  
  
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? The prince, with a bow?" Gilraën smiled, looking down at the pint-sized princeling. "Well, come on, let's see it?"  
  
"See what?" Legolas's little face was crinkled in confusion, since his bow was already in his hand, arrow notched.  
  
A smile crept its way onto the boys' faces as the leader, Gilraën, spoke to Legolas, which he didn't like. "You're supposed to be able to shoot almost perfectly the first time you shoot an arrow." He nodded when Legolas shook his head. "Your father, our great king, was able to do it, so you should be able to also." His voice was low as he spoke the next part. "Unless, of course, you want to put a shame to your father's good name."  
  
Stubborn beyond what most people would believe, the young prince nodded and slowly aimed his bow, trying to get a good shot. His hands shook as he struggled to hold the bow. Closing one bright, jewel-green eye and sticking his little pink tongue between his lips, Legolas tried to line up his shot with his hands shaking. Unable to hold the string back with is shaking hands, Legolas released the string before he had meant to.  
  
He watched with wide emerald eyes as the arrow went flying past where he had meant it to go, missing horribly. The group of older boys howled with laughter, pointing fingers at the arrow that hadn't some anywhere near the intended target. Tears brimming in his eyes, Legolas quickly walked over to get his arrow, head down and eyes looking closely at his booted feet.  
  
"Well it looks like the prince is a shame to his father!" Gilraën called after the blonde elfling, laughing and pointing at the prince's back. He saw Legolas stiffen and somehow knew that he had struck a nerve. "What I wonder now is if Thranduil will be ashamed enough to ban you from his house! He probably should, since your aim is so poor the best place to be when you try to shot them would be right were you are aiming!"  
  
Tears poured down Legolas's face as he walked quickly back to where Milrèe and Sidárn were waiting for him. The two young elves tried to convince the little elf that he should ignore the mean words, to not pay them any mind, but they had already been taken to heart. As they were talking Gilraën walked over to them, his friends follow him, all of them with a cruel smile on their face.  
  
"You know what, your highness?" The tall boy taunted the already distraught elfling, trying to find something else to use against the prince. "I bet, that if your fighting is anything like your archery, you won't ever be able to defend yourself, and you'll be nothing but a useless softie, nothing like the brave leader and warrior your Adar was after his older brother and father had been killed, leading Mirkwood during most of the war. You are nothing."  
  
Legolas looked up at the taunting elf, fright in his wide, emerald green eyes. Being so young, Legolas's heart told him that Gilraën was right, that he was useless and weak. But, something in his mind told him that the older elf was wrong.  
  
"No I'm not." He said, very, very quietly. "I'm good at fighting."  
  
Gilraën's face became a deep scowl. Looking into those eyes, he didn't believe that the prince would've stood against him. "Alright then, if you're so confident, fight me, and we'll see who's able to defend themselves."  
  
Eyes wide, but stubborn to the end, Legolas approached the older elf, noticeably smaller than his opponent. Without warning, Gilraën charged Legolas, trying to take advantage of the size different. Using a move that he had seen his father make, Legolas moved to the side, letting the larger elf go past him.  
  
He dodged the movements of Gilraën, but knew that the older elf would overpower him sooner or later. They soon ended up rolling on the grounds, Milrèe and Sidárn cheering him on and the older boys cheering on Gilraën. As Legolas tried furiously to throw off his opponent, he didn't notice the knife that Gilraën had taken out of his boot, probably to use against the prince.  
  
Without warning, a sharp pain lanced through his side, a burning cut across the young elfling's ribs. He bit his lip from trying to cry out as he landed hard on his back, Gilraën landing heavily on top of him, knife at the prince's throat. Legolas looked up at him through wide, frightened eyes. He had never expected the older elf to pull a knife.  
  
Gilraën hissed in the elfling's ear, low and surprisingly dangerous. "Your father would be ashamed if he should come across up at this moment, seeing you defeated like this." A soft laugh bubbled from his lips. "He probably doesn't care for you, weakling. He hates you, since it was your fault that the queen is now across the sea."  
  
Tears pouring down his cheeks from both physical and emotional hurts and pains, Legolas fled as soon as Gilraën and rolled off of him, ignoring Milrèe and Sidárn's shouts.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The small prince ran through the woods for what seemed like hours, vision blurred by tears. Legolas held his hand to his side, not knowing how deep Gilraën had cut him. He was ashamed at how the fight had gone, and how badly he had been at archery the first time he had tried. Even though what the blonde elfling wanted more than anything was to be held in his Adar's arms, he knew that his father would be ashamed of what would happen when his father found out what had happened earlier today.  
  
Legolas sobbed weakly to himself as he ran through the woods, though he soon realized that he didn't recognize where he was in the forest. He remembered dully his father's warnings about being somewhere he didn't recognize. As he stood in the middle of a clearing, he sat down in the grass, defeated as heavy rain started to fall in the forest.  
  
The small elfling started sobbing in the middle of the clearing, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. He shivered with cold, though he didn't know how, since he normally didn't feel the outside temperatures. He was cold, and after ten minutes, the young prince was wet and cold and hungry.  
  
Sniffling, the shaking elfling stood shakily, looking around the unfamiliar trees of the forest. As he continued walking, he was startled when he came in front of a large tree, looking terrifying to the small elf as he watched the lightning creating a frightening affect on the hollowed out center of a tree. There was a space inside of it just big enough for his to crawl into.  
  
Soft sobs still shaking his slender frame, Legolas crawled into the small, soft space, and curled into a little ball, and hoped that no one would find him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Where is he!?" Back at the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil looked into the faces of the guards at the gates, and of his son's nurse. "He was supposed to be back home by now and he knew it!"  
  
"Y-your highness," one of the guards started softly, "no one has seen him since he went to go and practice with his bow, sir. We have looked in the places that he normally goes, but no one's seen him since this afternoon."  
  
Clenching his fists, angry with the fact that his son had simply disappeared into thin air, he gave orders sharply. "Find Milrèe and Sidárn, since they were the ones that Legolas was going to meet. Maybe they can tell us something."  
  
The guards nodded and ran off. Tears fell down the elven king's face. He knew, in his heart, that if anything happened to his beloved son, all that he had left in Middle-Earth, he would no longer be able to remain in this place. He prayed to Ilúvatar that he would be able to find the elfling safe and sound.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A half an hour later, one of the guards, followed closely by one of the healers, came back into the throne room, pushing two obviously worried and frightened elflings in front of him. They were looking up at the king, looking for something in his face.  
  
Smiling softly and trying not to betray his emotions, watching as the healer packed healing herbs and bandages, he knelt in front of the two young elves that Legolas had become close friends with. They looked at him sheepishly. "Please, tell me what happened to Legolas. I'm really worried that something had happened to him."  
  
Milrèe, always the more talkative of the three, spoke quietly. "I don't think that he believes that, sir."  
  
Thranduil's face crinkled slightly in confusion when he looked at the young one. "Why would he think that?"  
  
Quietly, and looking down, both Milrèe and Sidárn began to relate the events of the afternoon to the king, trying their best to remember all that Gilraën had said to Legolas.  
  
"He was hurt, sir." Sidárn said softly, slowly meeting Thranduil's eyes. He indicated the lower left side of his chest, "both here," then he lightly touching his hand to his heart, "and here, really badly."  
  
Thranduil forced a weak smile on his face. "Thank you, both of you –"  
  
"Are you going to find him sir?" Milrèe asked suddenly, looking up at the king with wide, frightened eyes.  
  
Thranduil smiled, resting a hand on the slender shoulder. "Of course I will, Milrèe. I love him, he's my son, and I don't want anything to happen to him, no matter what that boy has led him to believe."  
  
Both of the elflings nodded, watching as the tall king stood up and began fastening a traveling cloak around his neck. A small search party had already formed and he informed the elf boys that they would be escorted home as the search team looked for the wayward prince.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They had been searching the dark woods for over and hour, with still no sign of the prince. Thranduil had begun to fear that something really horrible had happened to his son. He continued calling his name, praying that he would soon find the little one.  
  
It had continued since they had left, unrelenting and continuous. If the injury had affected Legolas like the healer thought he was, then there was the chance that the cold and wet would affect him. The wound, if left untended, would become infected, and followed by a fever and likely worse for the small elf.  
  
"Legolas!" He called, also searching the ground. "Legolas!"  
  
"Sir, we have found a footprint." One of the guards called out on one knee on the ground. Besides the small boot print, there was a small quiver, its smaller arrows been spilt from it. There was a small amount of blood on one of the straps. "But, sir, there was also this, and the trail leads in the direction that we are going."  
  
"Lead the way."  
  
* * * * *  
  
He thought he heard someone calling his name. The elfling stirred and his heart swelled, thinking that someone was coming for him; someone was coming to take him home. But, his heart sank as he remembered the unkind words that had been told by Gilraën. Sniffling, and trying to keep from crying again, he curled into a tighter ball, shaking and shivering from more than cold.  
  
Legolas's head felt hot, but he was really cold. He was also still very wet, and hungry. He watched with tear filled eyes as the torches got closer, and the voices that were calling his name got closer. He wished that they would leave him alone, but a tiny part of his heart wanted them to come, wanted his Ada to be in the party, looking for him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sir," one of the guards called, pointing to a large tree, just on the other side of the clearing. "Over there! I think we found him sire!"  
  
Hope filling his heart, Thranduil rushed over to where the guard had indicated, looking at the small form of the little elf against the tree. He knelt down close to his son's hiding place and reached out to touch Legolas's shoulder. He startled when he saw Legolas flinch away from his touch. Wide, sad, emerald green eyes met his, tears falling down pale cheeks.  
  
"I'm sorry," came the soft response, barely audible over the pouring rain.  
  
"Whatever for, my Greenleaf?" Thranduil asked quietly, watching as the small elfling sat up slowly, his movements surprisingly sluggish. "There is nothing that you should be sorry for."  
  
"Yes there is," the princeling sobbed, hiding his little face in his hands. "I'm not good at archery and I can't fight and I'm too small. I'm a shame to you Ada; I can't shoot good on the first time, like Gilraën said that you could. I can't even fight him!"  
  
The words came out in a jumble, softly, hesitantly. Feeling his son's pain, the elven king scooped the wayward elfling into his arms, holding him close and whispering soft, reassuring words. He graciously took the thick blanket that the healer offered, wrapping it around his son's slender, shaking frame. Legolas buried his face in his father's shoulder, letting the tears fall.  
  
"Hush now." Thranduil whispered softly to the yet quivering elfling held tightly in his arms. "There is nothing to cause a fright over, little one, absolutely nothing."  
  
"B-but I-I c-can't fight g-good." The pint-sized prince said quietly around his hiccups. "A-and I'm n-not g-good at sh-shooting either!"  
  
"That doesn't matter to me at all, ion nîn." Thranduil whispered the words, trying to soothe the elfling's obvious pain. "I couldn't shoot very well either when I first tried, or there's nothing to be ashamed of when you were fighting someone that was much bigger and stronger than you. In fact," he smiled, "Milrèe and Sidárn thought that you did very well, until Gilraën pulled a knife on you."  
  
Legolas looked up at him, yawning tiredly. "No I didn' Ada." He said softly, eyes closing sleepily. "I didn' do good t'all."  
  
Thranduil smiled. "Yes you did Legolas nîn. And believe me, there is no problem with you if you didn't even hit the target today. It was your first time holding a bow. Not even I had a perfect shot the first time."  
  
Legolas sniffled quietly, looking up at his father as the young king pulled wayward strands of soaking wet, white blonde hair out of his little face. "You didn'?"  
  
"No, I didn't." He lightly kissed the top of the small elf's head. "And I didn't expect you to, either. I love you, but that is not something I would expect to happen until you have spent time practicing really hard. I love you so much, ion nîn, but that is just something that I don't think that would've happened."  
  
The sleepy elfling buried his head in his father's shoulder, burying himself into the familiar, comforting warmth. "Ee luv u too, Ada," he said sleepily, closing his eyes. "Ee luv u too."  
  
Thranduil smiled as he slowly stood, shifting the elfling that was now sleeping peacefully in his arms. He could feel the unnatural heat on the child's brow and called for his mare. When the white horse arrived in the clearing, he swung easily onto her back, taking Legolas and setting him in front of him before heading swiftly back to the castle.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A few hours later, one of the servants walked into the young prince's room to find the elven king sitting on the bed, watching as his son slept. There was a bandage wrapped around the elfling's slender ribs, covering the cut that he had gotten in the fight earlier that day. Only a half an hour ago had the healer been able to break the fever that had been upon the prince's brow.  
  
"Sire, you should rest, it has been a long time since you have had any rest or sleep, and the prince is fine." The servant had seen how tired and drained his king and leader had been and was worried about him. Ever since Amilé, his beloved wife had died, it had been hard for both the king and his son. "I'm sure that the queen, if she were still here, would be telling you to go to bed."  
  
"But she's not here, is she?" Thranduil said quietly, his voice thick with tears. He was silent for a while before saying quietly, "I can't believe that he though I would banish him from the palace just because he couldn't hit the target the first time he shot. He thought that I hated him because of it."  
  
The servant looked shocked. He knew that the little elf wanted nothing more than to make his father proud of him. The elfling had such a pure heart, and was so open to the races. When humans visited, he would never be shy, and he would never act superior around the children that some of the men from Laketown brought with them. He was probably the only elven child to do so.  
  
"I can't believe that he would believe such a thing." He said quietly, turning to his liege. "He has always sought your approval, yes, but not something to that extent."  
  
"Well," Thranduil stated quietly, "he did. From this day on I will make sure that he knows exactly how much I care for him, how much he is loved and welcomed under this roof. He will always be welcome in this house, no matter what he did, I will always love him and I will never deny that he is my son. I want him to know that."  
  
A soft touch on his hand startled him and Thranduil looked down to see a pair of bright green eyes looking up at him. Legolas's hand lay on top of his and the elfling moved to place his head on his father's lap, speaking quietly in his native elvish.  
  
"I know now Ada." He smiled up at Thranduil, patting his leg. "I love you too."  
  
Smiling, Thranduil rested a hand on top of his son's pale gold head, not able to stop the tears from falling down his face. Slowly he bent down and kissed the top of his son's head, pulling the little one into his lap and holding him close. "I want you to remember that always, ion nîn, always. I will always love you, no matter what happens, no matter what you do or how well you are at something, you are my little Greenleaf, and nothing will change that."  
  
Legolas buried himself into his father's warm chest, warm and happy. He held close his little hunting doll, feeling the soft clothe against his cheek. Sighing softly, the little elf closed his eyes and began to fall asleep.  
  
"Don' worry Ada," he said, yawning, "I won' forget, ever, ever, ever. Ee' luv u."  
  
Thranduil smiled, carefully wrapping a warm blanket around the sleepy elfling. "And I love you too, Legolas nîn. I love you too."  
  
The End  
  
* * * * *  
  
[A/N] I hope people liked this! The idea came to me one night when I was watching forensic shows. I don't know why though. ANYway, hope everyone liked it; I had so much fun writing it. It was SO CUTE! ^-^ Please review! I want to see how much you guys like it! 


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